Exile
by GeminiGemelo
Summary: The lioness lay there, next to her fallen mate. They would never understand the pain she felt. The sadness. It was then that she realized she had but one thing left to live for... Avenging him.


_**A/N: **_

_EDIT: Yeah, this one-shot is, by my standards at least, pretty old. As of now, it's approaching one year of publication. However, I feel that this fic was well ahead of its time in my personal development as a writer, and it may be well worth it to you to read it. As far as one-shots go, it is very long... but - if my intents succeeded and I am to be given any credit at all - it is an engaging and perhaps emotionally saddening piece which should make it easier for you to relate to Zira's motives and mindset (provided you are not sympathetic to her already). Certainly the best work written by me at the time, this fic is still in my pantheon of works I am proud of - as well as one of my favorites to look back on._

_Perhaps the only disclaimer to go here is the end part of the fic. When I first wrote it, I seriously considered rating it M for the sake of my readers and was paranoid that no one would enjoy it - while I was wrong on both counts, and I personally do not think it to be that bad, it would still be wise to maintain caution. Some young or squeamish readers who may not enjoy graphic descriptions of gore are advised to exercise caution. I shall say no more._

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><p>A blade of grass wavered in the savanna.<p>

A blade of grass. So small, so seemingly insignificant. A mere individual in a vast sea of others just like it, stretching far and wide across the Pridelands. And yet, in its own small way, it was just as important in itself as any and all of the life surrounding it. That is to say, it was as a whole and individually a step in the ongoing and endless Circle of Life. Life and death, intertwined and intricately woven into the fabric of all existence. Into a circle so grand and scoping that it affected all the life which nestled in its bounds. Including the lives contained within the small herd of impalas that was peacefully grazing near the outskirts of the Pridelands.

As the lionesses gathered together behind a rock, they prepared for the hunt. They looked through the herd before them, grazing peaceably on the dry, scraggly grass that formed the floor of the Pridelands. A few knotted trees twisted and towered from the ground, and the land was dotted occasionally with large, hulking rocks. A cliff edge hung over an opening in the land below, which shaded it as the sun moved slowly across the azure sky. Scoping out a weak, sick member of the herd and choosing it to be their prey, the hungry lionesses began to discuss their course of action.

"So, Sarafina, you flank the herd. Left side. Zuri, you go towards the center and try to scatter them. I'll try to separate out our antelope. Then the rest of you can help me go in for the kill. Got it?"

Sarabi whispered quietly to the other lionesses, taking care not to startle the prey they had so carefully and painstakingly stalked. They all crouched low to the ground, barely catching a glimpse of their lead huntresses' dark pelt. They all appeared to understand her commands, and separated off from each other, treading soundlessly across the grass with broad, padded paws. Zira followed and growled slightly in delight. If there was anything she loved, it was the thrill of the hunt. A smile parted her lips and her heart began to pound as she slowly lurched forwards…

Sarabi made herself slightly more visible to the other lionesses, nodding her head slightly. That was the signal. Time to do or die.

Another lioness darted out of the grass, bolting across the ground so swiftly she appeared only as a flash of cream fur, bounding towards the prey. It was Sarafina. She leapt at the herd from the left, driving them away from their main channel of escape and towards a sheer cliff edge. It gave the other lionesses a chance to push them forwards and then scatter them, leaving the weaker and slower animals to lag behind, within reach of the lioness' teeth and claws.

Nearly laughing with pleasure, Zira found herself following suit. The grass folded and bent under her tread as she surged forwards, claws extended, towards her now-fleeing quarry. It seemed to be working. Her vision blurred with the speed and excitement, the antelope becoming closer and closer to her. For a few seconds, all seemed to be a perfect euphoria. A flash of happiness and adrenaline which inspired an overall feeling of ecstasy. Tonight, they would eat.

Slam!

Zira tumbled over onto her side from the force of an impact. Whatever it was, it had smacked into her shoulder at a high speed. The world seemed to twist and contort as she rolled over and over, until finally she fell hard onto her side, lying motionless.

The antelope were still there, but they drifted farther and farther away. Sarafina was still running after them, but she had begun to tire, and with no other lionesses to help her, the herd began to run back off the cliff edge and prance off into the distance in a huge, tightly packed herd. Sarabi made a last ditch effort to try to go through with her plan, but it was too late. The hunt had been ruined.

Spitting little bits of dirt and dusty grass out of her mouth while clambering to her paws angrily, Zira glanced around her, wishing to take out her rage on whomever or whatever had hit her and caused her failure. She quickly found a lioness lying on the ground by her side, equally irritated and out of breath. Both of their sides heaved and Zira huffed and snorted from the brief exertion and from the harsh impact. Finally she advanced quickly and threateningly towards her new adversary.

"What were you thinking? You destroyed our hunt! We had it going perfectly until you ruined it for everyone!"

The other lioness, Zuri, got to her feet with a disgusted snort. Her blue eyes narrowed and she looked at Zira accusingly. Her strong, pillar-like legs now wielded sharp claws, which she had unsheathed in response to Zira's fast, blameful aggression.

"Me? You're blaming me? Why, you're the one who went off gallivanting around towards those antelope. You weren't supposed to do anything except help bring down the kill! I was doing my job, but you got in my way!"

"You really think so?" Zira continued, now also holding up a muscular, clawed paw, "You'd better watch where you're going, you bitc—"

"Hey! Hey! What's going on here? Girls, break it up. We don't fight here!"

Sarabi called from a little ways away. She had walked back towards the group, disgruntled about losing the prey and a little out of breath herself. Turning towards Zira, she continued.

"Zira, what in the name of… What were you thinking?"

Sarabi moaned and put a paw to her forehead, very dissatisfied with all that had happened and already getting another headache, apparently. _Her she will go again_, Zira thought irritably, yelling and criticizing the huntresses until… well, until she was satisfied. Which was never.

"Sarabi, I was going along, just like you said. Before this lioness rammed into me. Because I specifically remember you saying: 'Zira, you go towards the center and try to scatter them'. But now, thanks to this pathetic excuse of a huntress, we lost the kill and we've got nothing to bring back to our Royal Majesty, King Scar."

"What? No! I said Zuri! Not Zira! Zuri! Ack, Zira… why don't you ever listen to me?"

Zuri looked down her nose at Zira in a self-righteous way as Sarabi chastised her, eyes shining with an irritating and self-righteous arrogance. Zira just stared back up at her and begrudgingly remained as silent as she could, the only noise being a growl from the back of her throat, as she waited for the end to Sarabi's insistent nagging. Finally, when Sarabi and the rest of the hunting party began to turn away and leave, Zuri stayed and continued harassing her new prey, Zira, over her mistake. She just wasn't going to let this go, apparently. Making sure the other lionesses were out of earshot, she continued in a small whisper.

"'Royal Majesty, King Scar'? What on earth are you talking about? He's not a king or even a leader of any kind; he's a greedy, selfish coward! He couldn't rule a kingdom if he actually had to do any of the work around here!"

Wrong choice of words. In a mere moment, the lioness found herself pinned on her back. Startled and surprised, she struggled and gasped, trying to get free, but Zira was already two moves ahead of her. Dagger-like claws still unsheathed, she held up her paw stiffly and, fueled by the rage that had overcome her and had been expressed with a sudden snarl, prepared to cut her face with a strong smack. _Or perhaps I will do even more_, Zira reflected as she fumingly pinned the lioness down, a clawed paw resting at her throat.

"No, Zira! No!"

Sarabi and several of the other lionesses ran up to the scene unfolding before them, trying urgently to convince Zira to get off of Zuri. The lioness vaguely noticed their presence at first, but eventually pondered what would happen if she did attack Zuri and the lionesses told Scar. He probably would be none too happy with her. Now was probably not the best time to go through with this. The angry pounding of her heart slowed and she looked out at the group of lionesses gathered around, still urging her not to hurt Zuri. Looking back down at her prey, she sheathed her claws and crawled half-heartedly off of her. Slinking off silently, she shot a final warning glance in Zuri's direction before uttering, almost under her breath.

"If you say anything like that again, I won't be so merciful. Watch your back; I'll be waiting."

She began to slip off angrily towards the grass, in no particular direction other than away from the lionesses, when Sarabi followed her and tapped on her shoulder questioningly with a paw.

"Hey, aren't you going back with us, Zira? We can hunt again tomorrow."

Zira didn't stop continuing forwards and only narrowed her eyes at the comment, a subtle but angry smirk crossing her face. She had been waiting several days to go on this hunt, and so she would go hunting even if it took her all night. There was too little food and now was not the time for procrastinating. Besides, Scar might be hungry and she couldn't fail him…

"No. Unlike you quitters, I am actually going to continue hunting alone, until I can bring Scar back a kill. Good-bye."

The curtain of scraggly grass rustled a bit and Zira disappeared behind it without another word, her tail, which was twitching irritably, being the last glimpse of her as she continued by herself into the unknown expanse of the Pridelands which lied before her paws. Sarabi and the rest of the group shrugged and called it a day, continuing back to Scar for what would be the last time. They marched off in the opposite direction, leaving Zira in peace, much to her delight. Now she could have some time to herself, hunting and stalking prey. That was what she was good at. Bringing down an animal alone, without the burden of a group to slow her down or mess her up. _Or run into me blindly_, she thought with a very irritated scoff. Feeling the wind at her face and her bare paws on the ground, she would be able to bring down a kill without having to share it with anybody else. Well, no one else but Scar, but she always shared all of the meat she had caught with him anyways.

She walked around with an air of aimless wanderlust, though in truth she knew the tricks and secrets of finding a herd of prey for herself. Though the huntress was not able to find any animal tracks at a first glance, she decided to climb up higher and look around. She made her way towards a high vista, where she could get a clear view of the land below. Zira traversed up the rocky slope, letting little pebbles skid and slide out from under her feet. Her strong and muscular body let her glide across gaps, leap up ledges, and climb up cliffs with ease. As Zira got higher and higher, she could begin to see the expanse of the Pridelands below her; the ruddy folds of dirt which dotted the landscape as gently rolling hills and the patches of buff colored grass which covered most of the land in a slick carpet. A humble river bubbled across the landscape, which was of particular interest to Zira. Water might attract antelope. She climbed up the tall slope a bit more, basking in the comfortable shade from the harsh sun. Eventually Zira allowed her mind to wander slightly, as she continued climbing into higher and higher elevations in search of prey. She could almost see her mate, Scar, now, with his bright eyes fixed on hers as she looked up at him in adoration. The blood of an antelope splattered and spread across their muzzles as they ate peacefully together, side by side, their tails swishing around and occasionally intertwining. She could feel the warm ripple and touch of his soft brown fur against her own, as he spoke to her as a soft voice in her head. The faint purring quality present in it as he held and caressed her with a strong, powerful paw… It all seemed almost real.

"_Ah, Zira, my queen… what would I do without you, hmm?"_

A smile visibly spread across her face as she thought about him. If she hadn't been hunting, she would have returned right away. She already missed her king. Resolutely reminding herself that she could go home and see him when she was finished here, she was more excited and eager than ever to kill and bring back something for the two of them to share.

With a final leap she found herself on a small plateau; the very top of the tortuous slope she had just surmounted. Here she knew she could get a wonderful view, as her keen eyes focused on the land below. She could perceive it all in amazing clarity, which made it no surprise when she saw a small herd of zebra parading about due west of her, towards the now setting sun and somewhat closer to the Pridelands then the remote locale she was now in. Good. She could kill one and bring it back to the Pridelands relatively easily.

Now it was time for the climb down. She followed the same route that she had on the way up, only in reverse direction. She padded and leapt down boulders sure-footedly and in record time, never stumbling even across steep and narrow fields of harsh, grating gravel. She was going to kill one of those zebras, and she had to move quickly so she could find them before they moved too far away. With a large leap she cleared a narrow ditch and found herself at the bottom once again. Turning towards the brilliant rays of sunset, she bolted forward, her strong body flexing and contorting as she made her way there at a rapid pace. In a matter of minutes, she was within view of the herd. Today, the wind was in her favor, and it wasn't long before the scent of fresh meat delicately trickled by her nose. Salivating and driven into hunger and adrenaline, she became completely absorbed into the task at hand, crouching inconspicuously and blending into the grass and the slowly-creeping shadows. Her expression became serious and pallid, her eyes widening as she focused on the delicately patterned black and white stripes in front of her. Her sharp senses detected a small, young zebra grazing just a little ways away from the herd. This one would be perfect. She slowly put one paw forwards… ready to pounce and tear her victim into oblivion. That was what she was designed for, after all: hunting and killing.

Her ear twitched slightly. Something had caught her attention, which was hard to do when she was in her current hunting-induced trance. The zebra must have noticed too, as several of them pricked up their ears and began calling to one another in nervous fervor. It sounded like… a roar… coming from Pride Rock. _What in the name of…?_

Zira dared to lift her head above the shroud of grass around her, looking back towards Pride Rock. The only thing she would ever sacrifice a hunt for would be the well-being of her mate. What if something was wrong? Scar rarely roared, especially not like _that_. If she could hear it all the way out here, then something was wrong. In fact, for a moment it seemed to her that it didn't sound like Scar at all…

No, that was preposterous. Who else would it be? Of course it was Scar. He was the only adult male lion around. Mufasa had been killed _years_ ago. That was certainly true. She'd even helped Scar pull it off. So, what was she thinking? And as to the cause of the roar… he was probably just angry because that _stupid_ hunting group didn't bring back anything to eat. They all acted like there was no food around, and here she was standing in front of a zebra herd. Zira thought back to Zuri with a twinge of irritation. No, prey wasn't the entire problem. Having a band of mostly incompetent hunters did not help. But she would help him. She would bring back a kill for them to eat, together as always.

Deciding to keep an alert ear turned towards Pride Rock, just in case, Zira turned back towards the zebra. They appeared to be somewhat flighty now, due to the small stir in the otherwise quiet surroundings, and she could now hear the frantic calls among the herd. If she didn't want to risk them running away, she had to make her move now. She prepped herself for the leap, baring her teeth ever so slightly…

The zebra never even knew what hit them. Before they had even had time to run, Zira was upon them. They tried to turn their heels, kicking up dirt and braying frantically in a daring escape attempt, but one of them was not quite as lucky as the others. The small, green zebra Zira had targeted had barely begun to run when she had fiercely leapt upon it. Knocking it to the ground with the sheer impact, the zebra tried to struggle to its feet, but had a hard time doing so because it had been knocked flat on its back. Avoiding the sharp, desperately kicking hooves, she pinned the zebra down with her fierce claws. Hunger and devotion to her mate mingled together, and she lunged forwards, sinking her sharp, jagged teeth into the zebra's delicate throat, severing several arteries and instantly snapping its windpipe. She closed her eyes, feeling nothing. Seeing nothing. The zebra's blood pooled into her mouth and began to flow down her throat, invigorating her as her jaw continued to clamp down with a merciless and unyielding grip on the zebra's flesh. Her prey looked up at her, though she did not notice, the large brown eyes beginning to glaze over as it tried to call out faintly to its herd mates. Blood gurgled noisily from the zebra's open mouth and all the noise that it ended up emitting was a weak, pitiable rasp. In moments, the zebra had either bled out or suffocated; she wasn't sure. Not that she paid any attention, as it was nearly the same thing every time. Every huntress had experienced it, and it did not faze Zira in the slightest.

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked down at her kill, letting its limp body slip out from within her jaw, ignoring the newly shed puddle of blood gathered at her feet and splattered all over her paws. It would feed the two of them wonderfully. Now to get it back. Zira leaned over, wedging her body as delicately as she could in between the ground and the zebra, before pushing herself to her feet, the newly killed zebra dangling over her back and leaking warm blood over her fur in the process. It felt somewhat heavy draped across her shoulders like that, but she was confident that she could get to Pride Rock with little difficulty, especially considering that all of the land she had to cross was flat, open, and grassy. With a final heave to adjust the kill across her back, she nearly beamed with pride as she headed back, the last rays of sunshine seeming to predict a quiet, peaceful night; perfect for spending alone together with her lover… perfect for mating. She had already had two cubs with him and had adopted his heir: a small, young rogue named Kovu, but a fourth cub would be delightful. More little Scars to follow in his paw prints; which was, of course, important. They would rule the Pridelands for the future years, to continue the hold of this bright and shining era, just as he had always dreamed. Together they would stand, as immortal as the stone of Pride Rock. Posterity ensured the obvious: that their legacy would stand strong, that the sun would never set on their rule, and… that she and Scar would never die.

Darkness had begun to converge and mask the land, but any guiding moonlight had been blotted out by thick, black clouds. She still knew the way to Pride Rock on her own, so she wasn't too worried. Oh, the look on Zuri's face when she came back with a freshly killed zebra in her grasp. That would be just too good to miss. She smiled and chuckled thoughtfully as she trod forwards slowly and purposefully, her eyes narrowing with wrathful desire. That lioness would be sorry for saying anything bad about Scar; she would make personally sure of it.

She walked along on her own way determinedly as she continued on her steady route towards the Pridelands. She had been calmed by now, by the continual steady movement of her limbs, her paws treading solidly over the packed earth and thick forest of tall grass. The reassuring darkness which welcomed and enveloped her completely as she padded along excitedly. And then there was the nice, pleasant smell of the zebra, which she couldn't wait to dig into back at home. Yes, that was it, the nice, soothing scent of fresh zebra blood and… lioness?

Zira stopped in her tracks, perking her ears up slightly and taking in another delicate sniff. Something foreign was approaching her. Something hot, and sweaty. It smelled a lot like a lioness, but whatever it was, it was approaching her at breakneck speed. She couldn't see anything through the murky dark but could begin to hear the rapid, rumbling sounds of footfalls and harsh, raspy breathing. Her own body began to grow hot and sticky with a sudden anxious restlessness. Sweat suddenly coated her back as she could finally make out the small, pale form of a female lion. She narrowed her eyes to try and get a better view of the figure as it drew nearer, and Zira found that she could recognize her, but couldn't place her name exactly. A young rogue. Or, at least, she had been a rogue a few weeks ago. Scar had let her stay in the Pridelands and she had quickly found favor with the pride by proving herself to be a bold and capable huntress, an asset that they desperately needed. Zira had seen her around several times and she usually came to the hunting parties, though she hadn't today because she had been sick. Why a sick lioness would come running like that towards her, especially when they knew she had been out hunting in the middle of nowhere, was beyond her. She probably found her through smell. The only reason Zira hadn't noticed her for so long was because of the fetid stench from the zebra. But why she would take the time to find her in particular was nonsensical.

The other lioness barely stopped in time, almost ramming into Zira. Both of them took several steps backwards in alarm. Immediately a nervous tension emerged. It had to have been the look in the lioness' eyes… pleading, worried, terrified. Her chest heaved and her legs buckled, barely able to support her tired body off of the ground. Her tongue lolled out slightly and the sweat from her body poured down her sides.

"Zira, get to Pride Rock, now!"

Zira nearly jumped in surprise. Of all the things she could have expected, it wasn't this. Something bad must have happened; otherwise the pride wouldn't have bothered to find her.

"Drop the _freaking_ zebra and move! It's Scar! He's in trouble! Go, now!"

Zira didn't have to be told another time. She flung the zebra away with a sharp rear into the air and instantly shot into a run. The sick, tired lioness followed behind her, but had no chance at catching up to Zira, who was one of the quickest runners in the whole pride anyway. The pale lioness surged forwards, passing her by leaps and bounds. She didn't stop. She didn't slow. She didn't wait for the tired messenger to catch up. In fact, Zira barely even noticed her, even as the lioness stumbled and fell into the tall grass behind her.

She continued towards Pride Rock, dogged determination pushing her forwards even as she began to tire. After a long while of running, she began to feel the fatigue. Her chest heaved and she gasped for breath. A throbbing pain began to form below her ribcage and her fur bristled with perspiration.

Zira didn't pay much attention to it, though, because it didn't matter. She had to run. She would have kept running even if all of Kilimanjaro was standing in her way. Scar was in trouble and he needed her. That was all that mattered; all that she could think about. Her head throbbed, thoughts flashing across faster than she could process them, the juxtaposed nonsense of words running through her head like a freight train. The lioness' words echoed across her head and racked her brain endlessly. It almost seemed to qualify as a form of torture.

_Scar. In trouble. Now. _

But what could have happened? What possible danger could he have been in? Was he okay? What if he got hurt? Or… killed?

It wasn't Scar. The first roar… it was another male lion. A rogue? Where was Scar? Surely Scar wouldn't let a male rogue into the pride; that could interfere with his hold on the throne… So who was this lion? Why was he roaring? Where was her mate?

Then she heard another roar. First only one, it still singed the air and reverberated around the flat plains, thick and dripping with power, piercing through the peace and silence. Not Scar. But then there were others. One, then two, then a whole chorus of weaker, feminine roars. There had to have been a battle of some kind, and slowly Zira began to piece it together. The lionesses had gathered together like they should have, defending their king loyally and without question against… this rogue. Instantly her ears pinned back, teeth bared and growling: a low deep sound expressing the pure, unrestricted hatred that now boiled up inside her and flowed through her veins. What arrogance this rogue, whoever the filthy vermin was, must have had to believe he could step in and take by force what was rightfully Scar's… And if he even laid a claw on a hair of her mate's pelt… oh, he would pay for it then. Something strange flared up inside her; an odd sadistic part of her wishing the rogue was still alive when she got there just so she could destroy him on her own. She could almost see herself ripping this idiotic rogue apart piece by piece, killing him slowly as he writhed in pain under her paws. Any harm to her mate would be paid back tenfold. Only first she had to get back, and in time…

She continued running faster than ever, finally in sight of Pride Rock. She could see with horror that it had been on fire, which was evident by the smoke billowing up from the ground in large, sooty gray clouds. The ground she was treading on began to crunch underfoot because of the thin coating of ash that was present. The rain pouring down from the sky, which she hadn't even noticed, had mostly put out the flames, but maybe that was what was wrong. Perhaps there had been a fire and Scar was trapped in the flames, where she needed to rescue him. She was slightly relieved that it had occurred at Pride Rock, however; she could, if she absolutely needed to, enlist the help of the lionesses… and the hyenas. She had never cared much for the hyenas. There were by themselves weak and ineffective. However, they were often useful due to sheer numbers. Pathetic alone, but powerful en masse. That was their tactic: strength in numbers.

Zira stopped for a moment, only to scan the chaos which appeared to be dissipating. She knew what she had to do. Running up Pride Rock, she tried to figure out what was happening. The fire itself was almost extinguished, but what of the rogue? She looked around, and was shocked to find that not a single lioness or even hyena was up on the ledge leading to the summit of Pride Rock. Maybe she had gotten there too late, and the battle was over.

"Scar, my king?"

No sound returned to her, save for her own voice, bouncing and echoing off the spacious rock walls. She slinked carefully up the charred ledge, sniffing the smoky, ash-laden air for any scent which would be of use to her. It was hard to detect anything other than fiery rubble and ash in the aftermath, though she could faintly distinguish her own mate's sweet scent. Creeping up a little farther, she quickly noticed the sweaty pile of sleeping bodies in one of the caves. Lionesses. The whole situation must have ended; otherwise they wouldn't be sleeping in the cave. Obviously the rogue had been defeated, which didn't really surprise her considering it was scores of angry hyenas and lionesses against one lion. An impossible endeavor for even the strongest of fighters. She didn't smell Scar inside, but then again, he was probably in the back of the cave. He might not have been liked by all the lionesses, but they wouldn't hurt him. Especially with Rafiki around in the Pridelands, any minor injuries he might have sustained would be promptly cared for.

The pale lioness relaxed ever so slightly, her heart slowing and the panic receding into the dark recesses of her mind from whence they had come. After all, in the end, nothing had happened to her mate, and the situation had diffused by the time she had gotten there. This would probably be like the time when Scar had slipped off a boulder and broken his leg, Zira thought with a slight rueful chuckle. She would never forget the sheer panic she was in, and how ridiculous she had ended up looking when Rafiki had told her it was only a broken leg and that he would be fine. Perhaps, Zira thought with a relieved sigh, this would be just like that.

Finding that she was quite tired from the scare she had had, as well as the physical exertion she had experienced during her run, she made her way to the sleeping cave herself, exhausted, though happy at the thought of seeing her mate. Maybe, she even reflected, she could go back and get the zebra if he was hungry. She had more or less forgotten about it in the chaotic panic that had ensued when that messenger had arrived. Where even was that lioness? Zira had lost sight of her somewhere in the middle of the savanna, though she couldn't exactly remember the details of where she had been.

Zira padded up slowly, almost lethargically, into the cave. Her eyes drooped somewhat and her mouth hung open tiredly. The adrenaline had worn off by now as she stumbled to and fro in the darkness, barely able to see who was being trampled by her weary and now uncoordinated step. She tromped over nearly every lioness in the cave, looking for that one special being who would be there to soothe and comfort her; the shining light in her life. Her king.

She padded around, too tired and distracted to notice the sleeping rogue, despite the fact that his red mane shone in the cave as brightly and noticeably as the fire that had burned around Pride Rock. However, the confused lioness did realize, with a puzzled and irritated moan, that something didn't quite add up completely. Zira hadn't seen Scar, which was obviously incorrect. She must have done something wrong; she was _sure_ he was in here. Around and around she went a second time, tripping and padding this way and that, progressively becoming more and more panicked. A third time. A fourth time. A fifth time. But there was no sign of Scar.

It was then that she seemed to melt. Her legs collapsed under her and she was again terrified, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to stifle back a desperate sob. Zira panted, trying to breathe as best as she could to keep up with her now pounding heart. Something was wrong. Desperately wrong. The lionesses were sleeping and yet… their king was missing? Was this some kind of perverted dream? To the tormented lioness, it could be described only as a nightmare.

She wanted to kill something. Rip it. Maim it. Cause death and torture to some poor creature. To destroy and ravage something. In a strange bout of depressed rage, she leapt and bolted out of the cave, speeding down the ledge with newfound energy. She had to look for him. She had to find…

The messenger?

Zira halted in her tracks, anger flaring up like a ragtag explosion of flashing pyrotechnics. For a brief moment she studied the panting, sweaty figure of the dark lioness standing before her. And in another quick moment, that same lioness was pinned on her back, crying out in pain, trying to struggle and get away from the sharp, unsheathed claws digging into her flesh.

"What happened?"

Zira shouted in her face, voice raised and angry.

"Please, let me go. Please, Zira. I'll tell you, but get off of me."

That was her only reply. Something about it irked Zira. It was pathetic, the look in the lionesses' eyes. Weak, submissive, helpless.

"YOU TELL ME WHERE HE IS!"

"I don't know! The lion came. Simba. I left right after he got here, to find you. So that you could protect your mate. And then Scar, uh, I don't know. I just got back. I wouldn't know where he is. Please, let me go. I swear I don't know!"

Zira growled and turned away, looking through the corner of her eye at the lioness beneath her claws, who was on the verge of tears. Perhaps she was even telling the truth, though now Zira seriously called into question the integrity and honesty of all the lionesses at Pride Rock. Something was going on, something wretched and vile. A cruel trick was being played on her, and Zira did not tolerate being tricked. Rage continued to pound through her as she solemnly pondered what to do. Until she heard the whimper.

Her head shot up, forgetting even about the messenger who lied still under her paws. Zira's eyes narrowed, gathering up as much light as she could in the thick penetrating darkness. She walked towards the source, which was behind one of the numerous boulders behind Pride Rock. Only she couldn't pinpoint exactly which one. She heard another squeak, and two or three more. They seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

"Scar? Scar, where are you? Answer me, love…"

No reply, again. She took a whiff of the air, which was now blowing towards her. This time, Scar's scent was appallingly strong, hanging thickly through the air, as numerous and noticeable as the shadows which were mercilessly and randomly strewn about the land.

"Scar?" she repeated, her voice cracking ever so slightly in desperation. "Scar, I know you're there. I've been so worried about you. Answer me, please, dear…"

Her voice echoed, and even the whimpers stopped. There was a horrible, terror-inducing silence that seemed to last for longer than she could possibly bear. Time trickled slowly by, and a chill shot up her spine. She knew, even now, that something was wrong. Horribly, irreversibly, unspeakably wrong. She began to feel queasy, a sick and nauseous feeling creeping up from her stomach.

"Please."

It was all she could say, that one small word being little more than a pleading cry, emitted from her very being out of pure and desperate hopelessness. She didn't know what she expected in that moment. Perhaps she expected Scar to come waltzing out, a little battered and bruised, telling her not to worry, and that everything would be okay. Or maybe she expected to find him merely sleeping, unaware of her pitiful cries. But somewhere deep inside, she expected the worst, and, though she didn't want to admit it, she knew that it was true.

Her lips were drawn into a sad grimace, a shrunken reflection of how she really felt inside. She looked for him still, searching behind several of the boulders, but finding nothing. Zira slunk forward, putting one shaking paw in front of the other as she ventured through the darkness, red eyes narrowed in a determined way. Dead or alive, he was close by. She would find out the truth, and get to the bottom of all this.

Something brushed against her side in the night. Zira looked quizzically over her shoulder, but whatever crawling creature it had been had already shot off into the dark nothingness beyond her rather short line of vision. She growled threateningly, though the entity had clearly run from her and had no intentions of returning. Another whimper. Another snarl. And then several more rammed into her, nearly flinging her backwards, as they shot by in a quick and desperate rush. It was a pack… of something. None of them turned back, all of them taking to their heels and flinging up dirt as they bolted off into oblivion. A pack of… no. It couldn't be. She took a long sniff of the air, and the now strong scent of hyena filled her nose, confirming her worst fears. She now noticed that she hadn't seen a single hyena since she had returned to Pride Rock, and now she knew why. Where there were hyenas, there was a corpse.

Another moment seemed to unfold before her in slow motion. Tense and afraid, she peeked out from behind a boulder, and finally saw that which logic seemed to suggest but which she herself denied.

Zira had found him. Scar, her mate, lying limply behind the boulder. Only she was not happy. No warm rush of ecstasy came out to greet her at the sight of his presence. In that moment, she felt as though something deep inside her had been ripped out, cruelly and mercilessly, by an unseen and unfeeling force. She collapsed to her knees, not even bothering to hold back the tears which inevitably came. The lioness forgot about any sense of pride and dignity, falling into the wet mud under Pride Rock, broken and sorrowful as everything she had slowly became irretrievable, a sense of emptiness gradually replacing it.

Scar was dead, his body sunken and lifeless. No, that wasn't quite right; he wasn't just dead. He had been mutilated, horribly, and left to rot. Left for his mate to find. This couldn't be true; it wasn't happening. She half expected to wake up from this nightmare; to wake up and find her mate, still alive and nestled against her side, a protective paw there to hold and to caress her. But all hopes of respite from this terrible wrong had slowly begun to fade.

She walked closer, wiping the tears from her eyes, clearing her vision. Zira didn't want to look at his body, but something pushed her forwards. She should never have left him alone, Zira reflected as she looked down at him from up close, tears welling up and again threatening to pour from both her stinging eyes. Closing her eyes solemnly, she leaned forward and nuzzled his forehead, which was still warm, though disgustingly sticky with shiny, crimson blood, which trickled across her face as she rubbed up against it.

The lioness opened her eyes, head still pressed firmly against his, teeth bared into a pained and distressed grimace. The blood and gore… it was everywhere. Spilled across the ground and on every rock in a twenty-foot radius, the lion's splattered bowels and delicate insides wrenched from within him to be spread across the ground in a sickening pool of his own blood. Shocking amounts of the crimson liquid had already matted and dirtied her paws. She looked into his eyes, which were still open, staring off into the distance as flies began to gather on their glazed surface, an expression of extreme pain and suffering written across his blood-splattered face.

Unable to stand up any longer, Zira collapsed and crawled desperately to his side, pulling what remained of his paws over her shoulder in a protective embrace. She cuddled desperately next to his body, trying to find the warmth which was slowly leaving his limp and pallid form. Scar hadn't gone down without a fight, which she could tell by his still unsheathed claws, which were caked with dried, foreign blood. But, whoever it had been, the attacker had won. Parts of his black mane had been ripped out, and a jagged, bloody slit had been cut across his exposed throat, causing plenty of warm, dark fluid to seep from his open mouth. It was a clear death blow to her mate, whose blood now covered nearly every part of her sweaty, dirt-encrusted body.

But she didn't notice or care. All she could do was huddle beside him, pretending he was merely sleeping by her side like he had done so many times, crawling closer and closer to his disfigured body in an attempt to delay the inevitable. The realization that, from now on, she would have to live life without him.

It wasn't fair. It was twisted, perverse, sickening in every way. She had done nothing to deserve this. The tears continued to spill from her eyes, dampening Scar's wet, chilled fur, until there were simply no more tears left. By that time, of course, his shredded remains were as cold as the damp stone surrounding him, every last trace of his warmth dissipated and dispersed through the still air. The lioness, shriveled up under his clenched, tight paw, still clung to him persistently, not wanting to let go. But he was dead. It was over. Everything was pointless. She could do nothing, _nothing_, to bring him back. She had let her greatest gift be torn from her soul, and it would be something she would regret for the rest of her life.

Her life. That was a joke. What else did she have left to live for? She wanted to kill herself right there, such was the pain that she felt in being so cruelly separated from him. But something changed inside her. As she lied there, still clutching his paw, her mind, previously clouded and foggy, began to think about it carefully.

Who had killed Scar? Managing one look at his mangled body, she contemplated the hyenas she had seen fleeing from her. Had they killed him?

The lioness quickly dismissed the thought as ridiculous. The hyenas rarely killed their own food, usually picking off prey that was weak and dying, or just eating carrion. Also, they had pledged their allegiance, their very _lives_, to Scar. She couldn't think of a single reason why they would maliciously kill him. He must have been weak, or perhaps already dead when they found him. If they had killed him, it had only been as a sort of coup-de-grace.

It was still horrifying. All of it. Though, begrudgingly, she didn't quite hate the hyenas for what they had presumably done. He had obviously suffered a lot before he died. Perhaps he had even lived through his evisceration, in which case he would have been dying in one of the most horrific ways imaginable. The hyenas were merciful, and, thusly, they were not to blame. It was a gruesome mental image, though it was one she could not purge. Her mate, fallen off of a cliff, perhaps with broken limbs, struggling but failing to get to his jarred feet. The adrenaline being the only thing keeping his pitiable, vulnerable form alive as he lied there, blood-drenched and bleeding out, belly split open, helplessly watching as his own intestines spilled out from below his ribcage. Knowing that he was beyond saving. And then happening to find the hyenas, his allies. Asking them, begging them to kill him so that the pain could end. A quick slice across the throat with a claw, and after a few moments he would finally expire.

And where was she? Off in the middle of nowhere. His own mate had abandoned him. He probably had hated her for it, the absence of her only serving to prolong his torment in his violent, dying moments. Zira knew that, had she been in his place, the only thing she would have wanted would be to see him one last time. She had to make it up to him, somehow. It would never be enough, of course, to make up for the appalling betrayal she had committed, but she could try. That would be, Zira decided, the one thing she had left to live for. _Scar will be avenged_.

"Oh… wow. Zira, I'm… so sorry."

Zira whirled around, emotions in a fiery tangle as she once again beheld the small, young form of the huntress, who had snuck up behind her.

This was her fault. That messenger could have stayed and protected him, but she hadn't. She abandoned him. Perhaps she was as much to blame as much as Zira. No, more so, since she knew what was happening, but did nothing to delay it. She had let him die. She must pay, in some form or another.

"You should be!" Zira snarled angrily, rapidly advancing on the lioness until she was pressed up against one of the boulders, dark shadows quickly wrapping up her mortified expression; Scar's wet blood, which coated the boulder, trickling down her fur and drenching her paws as she backed away from Zira's menacing pose.

"Zira, wha-?"

"Shut up! And look around! Scar's dead…" Zira got closer to the lioness, quietly enraged, staring into her petrified figure as she crept closer, blood-coated muzzle just inches away from the still lioness' shivering form. Zira could feel her warm breath against her face; hear the slight gasp as she pressed a muscular paw against her throat, a single sharp claw resting on her rapidly pulsing jugular.

"…and you've got thirty seconds to tell me who killed him. Or there will be two dead bodies here. Understand?"

"Uh, Scar was killed by… Well, it was probably Simba. Mufasa's son. I remember seeing him come back, somehow, and I remember him pinning Scar down by his throat, kind of like you're doing to me now, except he was screaming something at him. I left after that. To find you, of course. Zira, I'm so sorry. I didn't think…"

"No, you didn't!"

Unable to control herself, she drew back her free paw, slashing the lioness across the face in rage and frustration. She ignored the sharp cry of pain and the rapid chokes for air, and even the fresh blood which splattered out onto Zira's paws and nose. It was nothing compared to the repulsive horrors she had witnessed tonight.

"Oh, grow up!"

Zira snarled at the lioness in her grasp, ignoring the thud of her body on the ground as she released her, and the stifled sobbing she emitted. All she felt coursing through her body was anger and hatred, and all of it was channeled to this… Simba. The very name made her want to puke. Yes, she had killed prey before, but she killed quickly and she killed cleanly. But this… this was something of an entirely different league. It was something only a pure sadist could think of doing. The killer was out to maim, deriving pleasure from their victim's slow bleeding, painful suffering, and the desperate begging; the pathetic pleas for their life which resulted, to be ignored by their heartless attacker. If this lion had to go through even one tenth of the pain he had mercilessly inflicted on her mate—she would make sure he did, and more—he wouldn't find it quite so fun. But there was one thing left to do, before she exacted her revenge.

"Get up. You're coming with me."

The messenger gritted her teeth, groaning slightly as she purposelessly straggled to her paws, eyes shut tight as she stood there, blood trickling from the cut above her eye and pooling onto the ground, shining darkly even in the deep shadows surrounding her. She didn't dare ask questions, unwillingly but obediently following Zira, watching with curiosity as she made her way over to Scar's flaccid body.

Zira looked over her shoulder, back at the messenger who was peering at her with one good eye. She could tell that the huntress was terrified, not daring to ask a question despite the interest written across her face. Simply standing there respectfully. Zira would have chuckled, had she not felt so solemn and empty inside.

"Come here, we are going to bury him. But after that, we are going to have to put our sorrow behind us. There is one thing that will remain to be done, you and I; I'll need you to be ready to help me avenge Scar. But for now, go dig a hole in that patch of dirt over there."

The young lioness silently obeyed, half-heartedly slinking through the cool, damp night towards the crusty patch of earth. She began to scrape at it with her claws, uncovering and removing the plant life and pebbles which rested on the very spot. Her paws and legs moved rhythmically, working her body into a warm sweat as she fulfilled Zira's command.

The older lioness, however, was not paying attention, her entire focus on Scar. As the young lioness continued digging, she delicately closed her mate's eyes, gently forcing his jaw shut as she brushed off some of the blood which coated his body and attempted to cover some of his injuries with what remained of his fur. Dawn began to break over the horizon, sunlight vainly attempting to break through the shadows of the rocks, which were still buried under thick cast shadows. As the huntress finished her hole, her sweaty, tired body needing rest as she padded over to Zira's side, the older lioness finally realized what this meant. This was her last goodbye; after this, she would never get to see her mate again. She touched him gently, all hopes of a happy ending together extinguished as her dirtied muzzle once again met his stone cold forehead. He was dead, and that fact had already begun to sink in on her. The pair of lionesses delicately moved his body into the hole, Zira giving him one last nuzzle, a single tear dripping into his matted fur. He looked peaceful… almost.

"You will be avenged, my love. I promise."

The messenger simply stood there, silently, backing up slightly as if to give her room. But she didn't need it. Zira stalked purposefully away, tail twitching in hidden, fiery rage, motioning to her to recover the hole with the dirt. The younger lioness felt almost bad. Perhaps Zira was right. Maybe it really was her fault, she thought with a moan as she looked at Scar's body for the last time. She could have done something more, if she had tried. There was not a single other lioness who had tried to look for him, no one else who would have done anything to stop it.

She finished the job, following behind Zira, always a few steps to the rear. Maybe she could make things right again if she helped the older lioness avenge against the usurper, who must have murdered him. It wasn't really fair, what had been done to him, anyways. She didn't know the truth about Mufasa's death, but in the end it made little difference, as the two of them walked along towards Pride Rock, preparing for reprisal.

"Uh, Zira…"

Zira stopped for a moment, narrowing her eyes as she looked over her shoulder.

"What?" she snarled.

"I could go on ahead if you want. See if he's up there…"

"No. I'll kill him myself, where he lies. He will never know what happened."

"But… you could die."

"You think I care? I'm already dead inside."

The messenger took a pace backwards as Zira continued, unfazed, and was a bit taken aback, watching and eventually following several more steps behind her. But, to her amazement, the whole pride was outside the sleeping cave, watching the two with interest.

She recognized him at once. Simba. The sleek, golden fur and the thick, red mane. An exact replica of his father, Mufasa. He was beautiful, graceful-looking, his body speaking of unknown power that rested in his tough, muscled limbs. A handsome young lion by any definition.

_What a shame_, she thought sadly. _What a shame_…

It was then that she became unglued, any last shreds of sanity becoming completely ripped away as she charged at him. She didn't stop; half-scaring and half-angering the lionesses into action. They stood around their new king, very confused at what exactly was going on. Of course, Scar was the last thing on their minds.

_They're traitors. All of them, _Zira thought furiously as she flew up the side of the cliff towards her enemy. They were all to blame. They were indifferent to—even _protecting_—this strange lion. He didn't belong here. It was as if nothing had happened, a mere imposter simply being thrown into the mix to take Scar's place when he had gone missing. Where were they while he struggled and writhed in his own blood and guts? Sleeping. Did they care that he was dead? No. Who had cried over him and painstakingly buried him? No one, except for herself and… the other lioness. Her only real ally now.

She flew towards the fray, completely unaware of anything but Simba. Her enemy simply sat there, smug confidence on his face, somehow possessing the knowledge that these lionesses would protect him, no questions asked. All ten of Zira's claws were unsheathed, teeth bared into a threatening growl as she charged at him, screaming. Screaming what, exactly, she didn't know.

Closer and closer she got to him, before the lionesses finally stepped in and did their job to protect him. Zira swiped at them passionately, unable to hit very well as she whirled around on each one of them, blinded by rage as she tried to fight through the entire horde to get to Simba.

Logically, she would have seen it coming, but logic wasn't the first thing on her mind. She was desperately outnumbered, several lionesses effectively pinning her to the ground and keeping her there, no matter how much she struggled against her adversaries. After a while, she was just biting and slashing through the air; not even at anything in particular. She had been reduced to a writhing mass of hateful bloodlust, panting and sweaty as she desperately rolled around on the floor, kicking and screaming the entire time.

"You _**murderer**_! I will strangle you with your own intestines! L—let go of me, traitors! This is for Scar! Rrrrraaahhh!" She roared as best as she could, effectively intimidating most of those who were present.

Simba stood there, the arrogant look still on his face.

"Scar's mate? …I see where she got it from..." he glanced at the other lionesses with a smirk, some of whom smiled lightheartedly. "Look, Zira. I'm sorry to break it to you, but he was a cruel, sadistic murderer. He deserved every bit of what was coming to him."

_He deserved what was coming to him._

How could he sit there and possibly say that? The lionesses just stood silently, most of them simply nodding their heads.

"You should talk, coward. You aren't even willing to admit to your own crimes."

She spat in his face, sneering at him as his countenance seemed to change from annoyingly patient to sullenly angry.

"I didn't kill Scar. He attacked me, and I pushed him off of Pride Rock. The hyenas were there, waiting for him at the bottom of the flames. I heard him pleading with them to spare him, but it was too late. He had betrayed them and caused his own undoing. I had nothing to do with it."

"Lies, all of them. You really expect me to believe _you_? I know the truth, and you will pay for the hurt you have caused the both of us."

Simba began to walk around her, looking at her as if he was looking at a particularly naughty cub. He put his paws on her chest, standing on top of her with a gentle _tsk_ of his tongue. He began to talk to her in a haughty, condescending tone.

"What a shame. He corrupted you. But we can put an end to this. I offer you the same choice I offered Scar: banishment or death. Whichever one you choose."

At this point the messenger walked forwards, pushing past the lionesses which held Zira down.

"Zira," she began, voice merely a whisper as she spoke into her ear. "Maybe we can have a chance in the Outlands. If you're patient, we can wait for our chance to strike. Let him banish you. Let him shame you. The joke will be on him when we come back, stronger than ever. Choose banishment."

Zira looked at her as she silently drew her head back, retreating back outside the ring of lionesses. She continued to lay there, whatever ounce of sense she still possessed realizing that she was indeed correct. Scar hadn't taken the throne in a day: she vaguely remembered that there was lots of planning involved, in getting the hyenas on his side, setting up the stampede, giving Mufasa enough reason to trust him with Simba, alone…

She understood now. Her goal was to kill the king, just as Scar had, and she would follow in his paw prints, waiting patiently for her chance. She would make her mate proud, using that same sly cunning that had made him so… powerful.

"Banishment. But I'll be back. And Simba… I _will_ kill you."

Simba scoffed.

"Yeah, one lioness against all of us. I'm so scared," he jeered slightly, the other lionesses quickly bursting out in laughter as Zira narrowed her eyes in silent hatred.

"Wait," the huntress stepped forwards, immediately silencing all of them. "I'm going with her."

Simba looked around, still smiling calmly, as if mildly amused.

"I'm impressed. _Two_ lionesses now. Well, good luck with that. Escort them out, girls."

"And three cubs," Zira corrected. "They will grow up to follow in my paw prints. In _Scar's _paw prints. And any rogues out there may join our cause as will. Scar will have his own pride… and be king once again. Like he _rightfully _should be."

"That's enough, Zira," he said forcefully, starting towards her. "Go."

The lionesses let her up, several of them staying in between her and Simba as the others continued forwards, dragging Zira and the huntress with her. A handful also continued into a cave, promptly bringing out her sons, Nuka and Kovu, and her daughter, Vitani, setting them down on the ground to walk alongside Zira and the huntress.

"Mommy?" Nuka piped up, padding quickly across the dry grass, "where are we going?"

"To the Outlands."

"But why? Isn't that where the bad lions go?"

She chuckled slightly. He reminded her of Scar just so, with that scraggly black mane and dark fur. With just a bit of training, he would be deadly indeed.

"Yes, I suppose. They will always consider us and what we do as wrong."

She walked towards the rising sun, her cubs and her only ally walking peaceably towards what would be their home for the next several years.

"They took everything else away from me. My mate, my home, my _life_. But they will suffer at my paws. Besides," she scoffed, "isn't that all I have left to live for?"

* * *

><p><em>EDIT: If you have read through this whole thing, then that is an accomplishment worthy of my sincere thanks (and congratulations). I understand that this fic is long, so I will spare you further prattling on my part. 10,000 words in one sitting is enough to endure. Review if you wish.<em>

_Twin (:_


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